Chapter 11
A cool breeze traveled down the valley and with it came a welcome reprieve from the muggy day. Steffor stood at the edge of an elevated fern grove, confident its bountiful fronds concealed his presence. He observed the conclave of Guardians off in the distance, swaying like saplings in the wind. He hummed along with their solemn mantra echoing off the steep valley walls and searched his heart for the courage to join his brethren.
The sun was setting. The ritual's climax was fast approaching. Courage remained aloof.
Throughout the day, Guardians arrived one by one and gathered around the west side of the Forging Tree. None spoke as they moved to their designated spot and joined the others in singing the ancient hymn. Over an hour had passed since the last Guardian arrived and the wide semi-circle of bodies was now three rows thick.
Centered between the semi-circle and Forging Tree were six Guardians, each seated around a uniformed pile of sela gourds. These six had arrived long before anyone else. It was these Guardians, the luminescent gourds illuminating a deep trance on each face, that the rest focused their purpose. One would become the Provider's next Teuton Guardian before night's end. Assuming, Steffor thought with heavy heart, he chose to stay where he stood and not take his rightful place with the other chosen.
A thick paste of guilt clung to his insides, feeling like an apostate hiding in the shadows. Steffor had set many lofty goals to achieve in this lifetime and, prior to the recent turn of events; becoming the youngest Teuton in history was high on the list. Desperation mounted, gripping his mind with self-reproach. Disjunction with the whole, an apathetic attitude toward the four races, it all prevented him from joining in a ceremony he no longer believed.
Steffor escaped deeper into the confines of his mind and reflected on Kilton's recent divination. Since parting, Steffor's lack of doubt in the Teuton's prophecy had grown. The concept of becoming the first Citizen to ascend was intoxicating. Its appeal grew once applied to all the unanswered questions accumulated from both the past and present.
But as the day wore on, the implications behind the new reality sobered his excitement. The noetic walls of reason protecting his ego, maintained and fortified over countless lifetimes, were gone, never to be rebuilt. Intuition told Steffor to fall back and rely on the same simple set of instincts that had led him to this very moment. As he grappled to identify those instincts, the memory of a moment spent with his father reminded him of what mattered most.
It was the last day he would identify himself as a harvest Shifter and the first of many the Deeds would record his name.
Known Afterlife (The Provider Trilogy: Volume I) Page 21
